


Propinquity

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: The Light that Shows the Way (a 13 Ghosts Slice-of-Life Series) [1]
Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo (Cartoon)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: [Original 13 Ghosts 'verse, based on episodes 3 & 4]  What's left for a bunch of meddling kids and dogs to do once they find out that their mentor is, in fact, the most powerful warlock in the world?  ...And what's left for the warlock to do, too?
Series: The Light that Shows the Way (a 13 Ghosts Slice-of-Life Series) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124471
Comments: 18
Kudos: 5





	Propinquity

**Author's Note:**

> So, inspiration just keeps coming for story ideas of the 13 Ghosts gang, and this is the latest—a collection of slice-of-life oneshots. The first group of these will postscripts for the actual episodes (much like my oneshot “The People on the Edge of the Night,” which was a postscript for episode 11; that would, technically, fit in this collection if it wasn’t already a separate piece), and the ones after will be taking place in parallel with my ongoing “Season 2” project.
> 
> This particular oneshot covers postscripts for episodes 3 and 4; I had Byron Befuddle from episode 3 be another one of Vincent’s warlock compatriots, as he is very clearly based off of Peter Cushing, who worked frequently with the real Vincent Price (much like how Boris Kreepoff is based off of Boris Karloff—and I’m 99% sure that Voudini from episode 7 is meant to be based off of Christopher Lee, hence the palantír/Saruman reference in this piece). The mentions of Alisa and Miranda are characters of my own, who will be introduced later in my Season 2 project, and they are also based off of classic horror icons.
> 
> The mention of Florida being the location of the gang’s hometown is something that I’ve headcanoned since I was kid, even though it’s never flat-out mentioned which state they lived in, but in _Where Are You_ , they are shown to be living close by to beaches, swamps, and Southern mansions, which, to me, practically screams “Florida” loud and clear.
> 
> Lastly, while I’ve hinted at it a couple times in my Season 2 project, this oneshot reveals that I write Shaggy as a vegetarian; it’s what Casey Kasem wanted, and I happen to hold a great deal of respect for him, so even though it wasn’t technically “canon” until the WB era, I’m just sticking with writing Shaggy that way for this timeline, as well.

Shaggy, Daphne, and Scrappy watched in disbelief as Scooby and Flim-Flam hopped on board Vincent’s flying carpet and sped off into the dawn. Vincent himself looked halfway between disbelief and fury.

“You!” he said at last. “This is all _your_ doing!”

Daphne was about to say something in apology when she realized that Vincent wasn’t addressing any of the three of them, but, rather, Byron Befuddle, who had also been watching Scooby and Flim-Flam’s hasty departure.

Byron didn’t seem surprised by Vincent’s reaction.

“You’re right,” he admitted.

Vincent frowned, and then cast a glance at the others.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, curtly. “I must have a word with an old _friend_.” The last word was tinged with some amount of derision.

Byron followed quietly as Vincent led him away from the cliff, and Daphne let out a quiet sigh.

“I hear ya,” Shaggy said to Daphne. “At least he isn’t mad at any of _us_.”

“Yeah,” Scrappy agreed. “Phew! …But I wonder what they’re talking about.”

“Like, so do I; but, hey, as long as _we’re_ not in any trouble, there’s a way to find out…” Shaggy mused.

“Seriously?” Daphne asked. “You’re going to eavesdrop on Mr. Van Ghoul?”

The three of them jumped as they suddenly heard Vincent raise his voice—

“ _How could you do this!?_ ” he yelled. “After everything we’ve been through, how could you put me through all of this!?”

“…Well, in our defense, he’s making it easy to listen in,” Scrappy pointed out.

Daphne shrugged, and edged closer as Shaggy and Scrappy did the same.

“Vincent, I never meant to hurt you,” Byron insisted, drawing back from his much-taller compatriot. “I just thought you’d only be mildly inconvenienced and annoyed at having your crystal broken. You weren’t supposed to have known about any of this!”

“Well, I _did_ know—those kids managed to get one message through to me before the crystal’s communication line broke down!” Vincent retorted. “I didn’t get the chance to tell them about you and your house of horrors!”

“I didn’t invite Morbidia to take over, you know,” Byron frowned. “She went after me to spite you, but she couldn’t have known that you’d shut out all of your old school friends in the last three hundred years—”

“You had _no_ right to drag those kids into this!” Vincent interrupted.

“What was I supposed to do—ask _you_ to help!?” Bryon shot back. “In the last three hundred years, Voudini has been the only one you’ve spoken to from the old gang—he’s been the one keeping the rest of us informed! You never said a word to the rest of us—not Boris, not me, not Alisa… not even Miranda!” Byron immediately looked as though as he regretted his words as Vincent’s scowl deepened. “I’m sorry; I know you went through a lot, and that was why you wanted to be alone, but _some_ word from you would have been nice.”

Daphne exchanged glances with the others, who merely shrugged, and went back to listening.

“Voudini mentioned you’d taken on some apprentices since they’d accidentally opened the Chest of Demons,” Bryon continued. “Since I thought it was too much to hope asking you to help, I did all of this to bring those kids here.”

“Voudini knows about them, too!?” Vincent asked.

“Well, you know Voudini—he always has an ear to the ground and an eye on his palantír,” Byron pointed out. “Especially where you are concerned—”

“Didn’t he tell you those ‘apprentices’ of mine are mortals!?” Vincent shot back.

“Well, yes, but considering that they were under the tutelage of the most powerful of us warlocks, I thought they’d be prepared—” Byron began.

“You _thought_!?” Vincent interrupted, as the others exchanged glances once again. “ _My_ powers and _their_ abilities are not correlated in any way!”

“I realize that now…” Byron began, but the others were soon distracted from the two warlocks’ conversation.

“Did… did you _hear_ that!?” Shaggy said, in an undertone to the others. “Mr. Van Ghoul is this great, powerful sorcerer, and he never told us!”

“Well, the crystal ball and the magic carpet were kind of a giveaway,” Daphne pointed out.

“Well, sure, we knew he had magic,” Scrappy said, now seemingly intimidated by Vincent again. “But I didn’t know he was _that_ powerful! Flim-Flam never mentioned that—I dunno if he even knows!”

Shaggy gulped.

“Do you realize that Scoob and Flim-Flam went off joyriding on a magic carpet that belongs to the most powerful sorcerer—who is, like… really, _really_ mad right now!?” he whispered.

“Let’s just hope that Mr. Van Ghoul doesn’t _stay_ mad…” Daphne fretted, and she was startled once more as Vincent raised his voice at Byron again—

“You still had no right to put them in danger!” he was saying. “You should have contacted me directly!”

“I didn’t realize you were so concerned for those kids, Vincent,” Byron said. “If I’d have known how worried over them you were going to get, I _would_ have contacted you directly. I swear it.”

“Concerned and worried? Over us?” Shaggy asked, in an undertone. “He’s gotta be kidding—I didn’t think Mr. Van Ghoul could _stand_ us!”

“There you go, making assumptions again!” Vincent scoffed, as though proving Shaggy right. “I am referring to the principle of the matter!”

“Vincent…” Byron said, with a slight smile. “You don’t hop on a flying carpet from Tibet to Kiev for a bunch of youngsters if you _aren’t_ concerned for them—to say nothing of being so full of righteous anger.”

Daphne blinked; Byron did have a point, and Vincent was struggling to find some sort of counter-argument against it. But it still didn’t make sense—Vincent had more or less let them fend for themselves when they had taken on Maldor not too long ago.

“Again, Vincent, I am truly sorry for what I put you and those kids through,” Byron said. “But it warms my heart to see you get so protective over them.”

Vincent looked away, folding his arms.

“You’re forgiven,” he muttered, at last. “You’re right—I should have intervened myself once I realized Morbidia had taken over your manor.”

Byron nodded.

“I’ll get word to Voudini to let the others know that your apprentices are to be left alone,” he promised.

“…You do that,” Vincent replied, after a moment’s pause.

The two warlocks fell silent after that, and Daphne turned to Shaggy and Scrappy.

“Well? What do you think?” she asked.

“I dunno what to think,” Shaggy replied.

“Well, Mr. Van Ghoul did fly all the way out here to help us,” Scrappy mused.

“Yeah, but, don’t forget, we’re the only ones who can capture all the escaped ghosts into the Chest since Scoob and I let them out,” Shaggy sighed. “That’s probably what he was worried about.”

“Maybe…” Daphne said. “But maybe Mr. Befuddle was right. I think we should have a talk with Mr. Van Ghoul.”

“Er…” Shaggy took a look at Vincent, still standing with his arms folded, still looking very put-out and upset. “…I think I’ll pass, Daphne.”

“…Me, too,” Scrappy said, uncharacteristically cautious. It took a _lot_ to get the plucky puppy unnerved, but Vincent had been the one to do it—earlier, when none of them had wanted to break the news of Byron’s Shadow Demon stealing the Chest from them, and now again, with Vincent still visibly irked.

Daphne sighed and decided to handle it herself. She was intimidated by the sorcerer, as well, but, surely, there had to be _some_ truth in Byron’s words…

“Um… Mr. Van Ghoul?”

She reflexively took a step back as he turned sharply to face her; she was, after all, addressing the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Given how his angered shout earlier upon learning of the theft of the Chest had sent a minor shockwave through the malfunctioning crystal, there was no telling what he was capable of here, in person, should something set his temper off again.

Vincent arched an eyebrow as Daphne suddenly clammed up.

“Yes…?” he prompted, impatiently.

“I… just wanted to thank you,” she managed to say. “For doing all this just to bail us out of trouble.”

Vincent looked surprised for a split-second, but quickly returned to a stern expression.

“I had to ensure that the Chest wasn’t destroyed,” he insisted.

“Oh…” Daphne said, disappointed as she lowered her gaze. Of course, Shaggy was right—he’d come all this way for the Chest; what else could it have been?

…But, wait… When he’d rescued them from the tower window, the Chest had been the furthest thing from his mind; he hadn’t even asked about it—he’d instructed them all to board the flying carpet and had been focused on their getaway.

She glanced back at him, suddenly emboldened. She didn’t know why he was trying to maintain this façade, but that didn’t matter; whether it was a matter of stubbornness or pride, or both, and perhaps more that kept him from admitting it, Daphne was beginning to believe that Bryon was right—that Vincent had been concerned for _them_ , not just the Chest.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what you came here for,” she said. “We still owe you, big time.”

Vincent hadn’t missed the sudden increase in confidence in her voice; wondering what he had said that had caused it, he merely looked back at her in some amount of confusion at her words, as well.

“You owe me?” he repeated.

“Yes. You saved our lives,” Daphne pointed out. “I don’t know where we would’ve been without you. …Well, actually, I can guess—but I’d rather not think about it.”

“No… It’s best not to dwell on that,” Vincent agreed, the edge disappearing from his voice. He paused, clearly going over something in his mind. “…You’ve all been up the whole night, haven’t you?”

“Well… now that you mention it, I guess we have,” Daphne realized. “It doesn’t matter, though; we’ve pulled all-nighters before—”

“That simply won’t do for mortals,” Vincent insisted. “Byron!”

“Yes, Vincent?”

“Now that Morbidia is gone, you can put these three up in your guest rooms until Scooby and Flim-Flam return,” Vincent insisted.

It was less a request and more a statement of fact, but Byron didn’t seem to mind.

“He’s right; you’ve had quite a night—and a lot of it _is_ my fault,” he admitted. “Just follow me.”

He led them back inside the manor, and the trio looked back at Vincent, who was still standing with his arms folded, but he seemed deep in thought now, rather than chagrined.

“I don’t know what you said to him, Daphne, but it worked,” Shaggy marveled.

“All I did was thank him for saving us,” she replied, with a shrug.

“That’d do it,” Byron commented. “Even if he won’t admit it, he really was worried about all of you.”

“Like, I still find that hard to believe,” Shaggy said, shaking his head.

“Why do you say that?” Byron asked.

“Because we’re all a bunch of thorns in his side!” Shaggy pointed out. “Scooby and I opened the Chest and let Morbidia and the others out, and he was furious! And after your Shadow Demon took the Chest, I thought we were doomed…” He shuddered. “And now you’re telling us that he’s the most powerful sorcerer in the world!? Like, if we hadn’t gotten the Chest back, I bet he would’ve turned us all into frogs!”

“You’re doing him a great disservice, making assumptions like that,” Byron said. “Vincent and I went to school together—I know what he was really like. The Vincent Van Ghoul I knew always had a kind and caring heart. True, the years have forced him to put up walls around himself and push others away, but he was never cruel. Never. And that hasn’t changed. He’s only ever used his powers for good.”

“That’s good to know,” Shaggy exhaled.

“What made him change and put all those walls up around himself?” Daphne asked, curious. 

“That’s not really my place to say, but, as I let slip in our argument, he has been through quite a lot,” Byron said. “But, in spite of it all, I want to believe that beneath that icy façade is his true self.”

“Gee, you’d never guess by looking at him,” Scrappy commented.

“Well, he won’t make it easy,” Bryon admitted. “But if you take the time and effort to get to know him, you might be surprised by what you find.”

Shaggy scratched his head and Scrappy looked puzzled, neither of them sure of what to think. Daphne, on the other hand, was thinking of how Vincent had reacted to her words of thanks—particularly how he’d done a 180 when she’d tried to speculate as to what could have happened had he not shown up on time as he had.

“Well, here are your rooms,” Byron said. “I’m sure Vincent will let you know when it’s time to leave.” He paused. “Do think about what I said—you mortals may have the best opportunity to help Vincent, more than myself or any of his fellow warlocks or witches.”

He headed off, leaving the trio confused.

“Help _him_?” Daphne repeated. 

“Yeah, like, I don’t get it, either,” Shaggy added. “But maybe I’m just tired.” He yawned as he headed to his room. “Sleep well, Guys.”

“You, too!” Scrappy said, heading to his room, as well.

“Yeah…” Daphne said, turning in, too.

There’d be plenty of time to think about all of this later.

*******************************

As it transpired, Scooby and Flim-Flam had returned with the magic carpet and the repaired crystals to find Vincent in a far more agreeable mood than they had expected. He had even insisted that they rest, as well, before Vincent eventually used the crystals to teleport them out.

They hadn’t really heard much from Vincent again until their misadventure in Marrakesh, going up against the Reflector Specter. One thing that Daphne had noticed, though, was that Vincent was being far more helpful than he had when they’d gone up against Maldor—warning them about the faked telegram and that they were in the midst of a trap, as well as instructing them to find the amulet that could protect them.

…And then, once more, he’d shown up in person to help them. Oh, he’d disguised himself at first, and Daphne still couldn’t believe that she hadn’t recognized him after years of seeing through the disguises of others—though, in her defense, he’d probably used his magic to help with concealing his identity, which she’d had no experience with.

But, nevertheless, here they were again, with Vincent trying to be as aloof and casual about his role in their quest after the Reflector Specter had been captured, and Daphne could see that even Shaggy and Scooby weren’t buying it this time—clearly, Shaggy was beginning to believe Byron’s words, as well.

But what happened next had surprised everyone—Scooby had announced that he was hungry, and the gang had been discussing trying to return to the hotel for dinner and to hopefully patch things up with the annoyed concierge they had left behind when Vincent, out of nowhere, had chimed in to their conversation—

“Well, if you want to settle for the touristy fusion cuisine, by all means, feast at the hotel,” he said. “But if you want to sample _authentic_ Moroccan cuisine, I know of several family-owned establishments here in Marrakesh that will spoil you for anything else you find to eat around here.”

“Oh, boy!” Scrappy exclaimed, his tail wagging at the thought. “That sounds great!”

“It sure does! Like, lead the way, Sir!” Shaggy said, eagerly.

Vincent hadn’t been expecting that, if the look on his face was any indication; if Shaggy still had any doubts about Vincent at this point, the promise of good food had pushed them aside. More than that, by the look on Vincent’s face, he’d been planning to merely _tell_ them where to go, not accompany them.

But before he could bring that up, Daphne decided to intervene to let him off the hook. If those walls that Byron had described were going to come down, it should be on Vincent’s terms, not theirs.

“It’s really very kind of you, but you don’t have to give us a tour,” she said. “And… thanks again for saving us with that amulet. Once again, if it hadn’t been for you, we’d have been trapped in that mirror world…”

“Rheah, you saved us!” Scooby exclaimed, standing up on his hind legs so that he could hug Vincent in gratitude. “Rhank you!”

Vincent had clearly not been expecting that hug, either; the look on his face was one that could only be described as utter confusion as he tried to process what was happening to him.

Daphne’s initial amusement at this gave way to a slight sadness as she realized that Vincent really must have been alone for such a long time if a hug was such a newfangled concept for him.

Shaggy seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as he now moved to coax Scooby away.

“Like, I think he got the message, Scoob…” he said, gently pulling the Dane away.

“Oh…”

Scooby looked a bit sheepish as Vincent now cleared his throat, regaining his poise, and the others looked a bit nervous now.

“So, uh, what were these places you were talking about, Vince?” Flim-Flam asked, trying to clear the awkwardness of the moment; despite having known the warlock for two years, he had never seen him react like that before—and for something so simple, too.

“Well…” Vincent began, but he trailed off, seeing the others glancing back at him.

He was no fool; he knew they were waiting for his reaction. He’d sensed it ever since Daphne had been emboldened during their brief conversation in Kiev. They may have been afraid of him before, but that was changing.

Their initial fear of him was nothing new; Vincent was used to mortals being afraid of him, and it was something he encouraged, given his icy and intimidating exterior; he’d been _trying_ to keep people away. But he had been surprised to see them so willing to push that aside now—and Flim-Flam had been like that already, only seeming more convinced now. Had Vincent _really_ let his emotions betray himself to them just by flying out to Kiev to help that one time?

…But what else could he have done? His inaction when they’d face Maldor had nearly cost Daphne and Scooby their lives, and it had been a harsh—but needed—wake-up call for Vincent, reminding him that they were inexperienced youngsters who had not intended to open the Chest, but were still cleaning up the accidental mess they had made because of it.

He had vowed right then and there that he would do all he could to protect them from that moment onward. And that was why he’d gone to Kiev to bail them out, why Daphne’s pondering over “what ifs” had affected him as much as it had, and why he’d gone through disguising himself here in Marrakesh to get the amulet to them.

But this wasn’t anything to do with that. These youngsters had earned themselves a good meal after a job well done, and he’d merely been trying to guide them towards the best food in the city.

But, somehow, they’d extended an invitation for him to join them. And it wasn’t just to placate him now that they knew of his power. No, they had invited him as though he was an ordinary person and not the most powerful warlock in existence.

And yet, it was still _more_ than that. Since ancient times, the act of partaking in a meal together was among the most significant acts of camaraderie and fellowship. Though given odd, trendy names such as “social eating” these days among mortals, the main idea was still very much there.

Vincent knew that his decision now would determine how their association would go for the remainder of their quest.

But they were all so _young_. They _needed_ his guidance and experience—and they would need to trust him, with no doubts remaining. …Yes, he would accept their invitation to dine together, and ignore that little voice in his head that was warning him that he was going soft…

…After all, there were worse things he could be than soft.

He gave a quiet sigh and managed a smile as he glanced back at them once more.

“Follow me,” he instructed.

They _all_ had grins on their faces now as they did so.

*******************************

Wanting to sample all of the different places Vincent had wanted to recommend to them, the decision was made to order takeout from all of them, and then set up a picnic buffet on the roof of the hotel.

Shaggy and Scooby’s legendary appetites had certainly taken Vincent by surprise; while marveling at just how much the two could put away, it hadn’t escaped him that Shaggy was skipping the dishes with meat. Vincent didn’t question or comment on it, but he did conjure up some meatless variants of the dishes for Shaggy to try, and the beatnik eagerly partook in them, managing a grateful thanks through a mouthful of food.

Daphne marveled at it all—it hadn’t taken much for those walls to start coming down, as Byron had predicted, though she was still skeptical about their ability to actually _help_ Vincent. Nevertheless, they were all clearly enjoying each other’s company, talking over their meal and getting to know each other better in the process.

Vincent regaled them with tales of his travels in his younger years—and judging by his tales, the others had realized he was much, much older than he looked (and far older than Byron’s mention of three hundred years had hinted at), for they noted that he mentioned temples dedicated to Athena and other Olympians, as well as the Lighthouse and Library of Alexandria, which had been destroyed over countless centuries ago.

As the conversation went on late into the night; Scrappy and Flim-Flam had nodded off on the picnic blanket, and Scooby was curled up beside them, dozing off, as well, while Vincent, Shaggy, and Daphne continued to talk over servings of a local mint tea.

“You talk a lot about Athens,” Daphne was saying. “Is that your hometown?”

“I guess you could call it that, yes,” Vincent mused. “Even if I’ve considered Tibet home now.”

“How’d you end up moving from Greece to Tibet?” Shaggy wondered.

Vincent’s smile faded slightly.

“A number of reasons,” he said, after a moment.

“Oh…” Shaggy said, realizing he may have stirred up some unpleasant memories. “We haven’t really been home in a while, either—we’ve spent the last year traveling for Daphne’s articles.”

“We grew up in a small town in Florida,” Daphne added. “But we always loved traveling—all of us, and two more friends we grew up with: Fred and Velma. We’ve been to a lot of places, too—some of them where you’ve been, I’m sure. But you’ve seen things we’ll probably never get to see.” She paused. “I’m guessing that warlocks are immortal, right?”

“Conditionally, yes,” Vincent said. He then smirked. “How old do you think I am?”

“…For you to have visited some of the places you mentioned, you’d have to be around two thousand years old,” Daphne said.

“I see you’ve done your homework,” Vincent commended. “You happen to be correct.”

“Like, wow…” Shaggy marveled. “So, this is all an old hat to you, huh? Marrakesh, the food, the tea, the atmosphere…?” He gazed out upon the view of the city from the rooftop.

“Well… some things don’t lose their magnificence, even if you’ve seen it before,” Vincent mused. “There’s a lot out there in this world to marvel at. Don’t let it pass you by.”

“Yeah!” Shaggy promised. “Great views, great history, great food, great tea…”

“…And great friends,” Daphne added.

Vincent glanced at her with an arched eyebrow for a moment before looking away to gaze upon the view once more, but both Shaggy and Daphne distinctly saw him trying to suppress a smile.

He was still trying to keep up those walls around himself, they realized. But it was a half-hearted effort now—an old habit that was just too hard to break, perhaps, for they could see clearly that Vincent had enjoyed the evening just as much as the rest of them had, and, more than that, he really and truly did care about them.

They would respect him and let him break down those walls when he was ready to do so. But they were patient and persistent—and stubborn. They would wait as long as they had to.

They cared about him, too.


End file.
